


Flight of Fancy

by jaegersaint



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Levi, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Canon Era, Circus, Crack, Criminals on the run, DJ!Levi, Domestic Fluff, Fantasy, Holy Grail, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reincarnation, Sentient Animations!Ereri, Supermarkets, Tourist!Eren, french levi, nightclubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegersaint/pseuds/jaegersaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets set in different verses. Cross-posted from Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. White Lines

_Come on down to Florida,_   
_I got somethin’ for ya._   
_We could see the kilos,_   
_Or the keys, baby, oh yeah._

 

They pull up to the shoreline just before dawn, and Levi has to rev the engine several times to get them there. The car lurches forward but groans like a dying animal, loud and metallic from deep in its guts, belching a trail of inky smoke behind them.

Between the noise, the smoke and their rusted shell of a getaway car, Eren knows realistically they haven’t a hope of making it across the border. But Levi is looking at him now, one arm still slung over the steering wheel, the other skimming hot against his thigh like a branding iron. He’s smiling, for once. Really smiling, all tight and creased around the eyes. It makes Eren feel invincible. If they’ve made it this far, mottled red and blue with blood and bruises but triumphant all the same, maybe it’s the world that should be running from them.

Levi pulls his seat back, digging his fingers into the jut of Eren’s hips as he half crawls, half slides into his lap. Eren feels like a grenade with its pin pulled out. He can’t tell if the heartbeat in his ears is from the last dregs of adrenaline still flowing in his system, or if he’s just so hot for Levi he can feel the warm spit pooling on his tongue as he breathes him in.

"How did I do, captain? Do I get a medal for going above and beyond the call of duty?"

He grins against Levi’s neck, licks at the bloody tear under his jaw. Levi groans, trembles and grips his ass tight in both hands. The scorching press of his fingers on Eren’s bruises runs down his cock and into him, making his insides clench.

"Don’t think you’re off the hook, you little rascal. I told you to stay in the car, not go running after me when you barely know how to shoot straight."

Eren is already halfway to Nirvana, leaving bloody smears down Levi’s neck as he laps at it like a drunkard, high off the smell of sweat and grit on his skin. 

"Mhmm, but I did shoot straight enough to take out the fucker who was about to blow your brains out, so."

One of Levi’s hands loosens against Eren’s ass, runs up the arch of his body and curls under his chin. It twists his head up to Levi’s face as he mashes their lips together, salty with blood and hot from the air they swap between them guzzling each other down like whiskey.

Eren’s fingers rake up and down Levi’s back, etching a patchwork of cuts and scratches into his skin. Levi’s fingers are on his nipples now, twisting and squeezing until even his cock is hard and swollen, and his moans are loud in the stuffy silence of the car as Levi pulls away from his lips to whisper in his ear.

"When we get to Mexico, before we spend a dime of this money, I’m going to drive us out to the desert and fuck you raw and listen to you scream yourself hoarse."

Several blocks down, a siren wails, but the sound is drowned out by Eren’s breathless laughter.

 

_Guns in the summertime,_   
_Chica, cherry, cola, lime._   
_Prison isn’t nothin’ to me,_   
_If you’ll be my side._

\- [Florida Kilos](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FY0mQpttlM), Lana Del Rey


	2. Covenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Countless men before him had lost their lives to this quest - but Levi was no ordinary man.

Levi had known the price for eternal life couldn’t have been slight, but the blood of his men pooling on the stone beneath his feet seemed hardly worth it now.

There stood the cup of legend, on a pedestal not three paces in front of him, glistening cold and bright like some distant star, ignorant of the slaughter that had been waged in its name. Godly indeed.

He would not leave without it. The lives of his men had been weighed against it pound for pound, and had been found lacking. But he too had had the mantle of legend foisted upon him, reverent whispers extolling his strength, proclaiming him to be worth a hundred soldiers. True or no, it seemed the time had finally come to squander such honeyed words for all their worth.

But there was the boy to contend with. This boy who stood between him and the vessel, a mere waif of a half-child with wide eyes that shone like freshly cut emeralds. Yet this boy had picked his men apart one by one like stray cattle, and even in the face of the divine, he brimmed with an energy that seemed to impose its own brand of sanctity.

Owlish eyes drifted down to the sword in his hand. Levi gripped it tighter, as if his gaze alone could send it clattering to the ground. The boy spoke.

"Stay your hand, knight. Do you deign to fight even as the corpses of your men are piled around you? Do you not tire of being sent out like a hound to chase after fantasies by men with coffers wide as their girths?"

Levi stepped forward, sword outstretched in front of him, cleaving the boy’s image in half around it.

"I care not for dusty old fables. Less for the pigs who perpetuate them. But the blood of my men could fill that cup tenfold, and I will cease once I have claimed it in payment for their sacrifice."

The boy strode towards him, lean as an oakling and calm as a lamb, stopping only when the tip of his sword dug into the hollow of his throat.

"Then go no further, and take me instead. For I can promise you a glory so terrifying that even the gods tremble at its touch."


	3. If These Wings Could Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Sara Gruen's "Water For Elephants."

The day Eren turned seven years old, he saw Levi for the first time.  
  
The whole month prior he had watched the brightly painted Ringling Bros. posters springing up all over town, spreading out block by block until the classroom and the schoolyard buzzed with talk of the renowned troupe’s forthcoming arrival.  
  
When the circus threw its gates open at last, and he and his mother and father were swept through the concourse with the roil and lurch of the crowd, he had worked himself up to such a dizzying level of excitement that everything around him flew past in hazy pinpricks of colour.  
  
The ringmaster’s coattails, rich red and dazzling in the mid-morning sun. Caravans with wheels wide as he was tall, gilded gold and royal blue like the sky. Taffy and soda and popped corn in candy striped packaging. The thundering of footsteps, the whoops and gasps of the crowd and the stomach-twisting roar of wild animals, further and further down a city of tents that never seemed to end.  
  
His world had shrunk into a dense bubble of loud sights and even louder sounds, and he was too young and too bright-eyed to properly grasp anything but stray fragments in his little hands.

It happened in the big top that afternoon, when he was seated between his parents, hands sticky with spun sugar and neck craned towards the wire hanging sixty or so feet over their heads. When Levi began to walk the line, sliding one foot in front of the other as if he were wading through water, all the noise was sucked out of the crowd and out of Eren’s head until only a pindrop of a thought remained.  
  
 _I want to join the circus._  
  
Life had a funny way of coming full circle sometimes, so when Eren was seventeen and watching his newly jobless father bent over his mother’s burgeoning belly from the kitchen doorway, he decided to make good on his ten year-old resolution and slipped out his bedroom window in the night in search of the Ringling Brothers.  
  
He caught up to their train halfway through the next state over, and having nothing superhuman about him except perhaps his ferocious tenacity, he was accepted into the baggage stock to earn his keep cleaning out wagons and fetching water for the horses.  
  
Two weeks into his stint, on his way out of the big top to fetch a broom for the stock cart, he happened to look up as he swept his sleeve over his sweaty brow, and saw Levi for the second time.  
  
He could remember very little from that day ten years ago, but his memory of the man on the tightrope had been preserved with near photographic accuracy - enough to notice that the years had done nothing to diminish neither his grace nor the lightness of his feet.  
  
When Levi hopped off the platform, Eren met him with a self-introduction and a plea for Levi to teach him how to fly.     
  
That evening, when Eren stood in the grassy field beside the big top, eyes shut tight and arms spread out on either side of him like wings, the one thing in the world he could still hear was Levi’s voice beside him, murmuring _higher, keep it up, steady now_.


	4. Cliché On Aisle 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long day, and Levi will do just about anything for his favourite black tea.

The shittiest thing about working on Saturday night is that by the time Levi has given enough people the evil eye that they finally leave him to close in peace, the only places left open within a ten-kilometre radius are Seven Eleven and Sina Mart.

The shittiest thing about this sorry state of affairs is that Seven Eleven is useless for anything but dollar donuts and coffee, and everyone knows that Maria’s is the place to go if you don’t want to pay an average of ten dollars more per shopping trip or vegetables that wilt half a day later. Call him a tight-arse all you want, but in this all but kaput economy, a rep for penny-pinching is the least of his worries.

The shittiest thing about this particular Saturday night is that Levi is fresh out of black tea. No, not the criminally bland vileness you can find crammed on any old supermarket shelf. Real black tea. Reebs Company black tea.

And Sina just so happens to stock it.

Which is how Levi finds himself here, scanning as quickly as he can through the rows and rows of Twinings and Dilmah and Lipton so he can pay a dollar more for his shit and leave before he gets tempted to blow half his paycheck on junk food and cleaning products.

Bingo. There it is, the familiar gold “R” logo winking at him from the top right corner of the shelf.

The top right corner of the shelf that he can’t reach.

Levi takes a deep breath, counts backwards from ten in his head, and blows it out through his mouth in a slow, steady stream. Then he preps himself for the jump.

"No worries, let me grab that for you," says an overly chipper voice behind him just as he’s about to swing his arms.

Levi turns on his heel, ready to tell the little upstart that no thanks, he’s perfectly capable of jumping for his own tea, when he looks up and sees the guy’s face.

Big boyish grin. Chocolate brown hair barely toeing this side of “just had sex” messy. Blue-green eyes after Mother Nature’s own heart.

"Um…here you go," The guy says again. Levi has just enough motor skill left to reach for his tea, mumble out a quick "thanks", and sneak a peek at the name tag bearing "Eren" in blocky black letters on the guy’s chest.

As he floats over to the checkout counter on autopilot, narrowly missing several trolleys on the way, he comes to the conclusion that Sina Mart is exactly the type of overhyped, overpriced, big-name monstrosity that makes Hanji’s penchant for fancy little organic grocers seem semi-reasonable.

No one ever had a bad thing to say about their service, though, come to think of it, and he supposes that’s reason enough for a return trip every now and then.

Maybe tomorrow, while the Febreeze is still on special.


	5. Close Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He bitterly regrets not paying attention in French class, now.

Eren knows this is his dozenth attempt at pulling up some poor passer-by off the sidewalk. His feet ache, his stomach is rumbling loud enough to scare off anyone who comes too close, and he’s so tired he’s long since forgotten the difference between “can you please point me to the nearest hotel” and “can you please point me to the nearest brothel.”

That _would_ explain the lady who tried to whack him over the head with her umbrella a while back…

Eren’s attention snaps back to the stranger in front of him. The man is pointing this way and that, prattling away in rapid-fire French. Eren strains his ears so hard trying to catch a stray phrase he feels like he might give himself an aneurysm. The stranger stops talking as quickly as he begun, looking at him expectantly. Eren doesn’t have it in himself to do anything other than smile politely, nod a few times, and mumble out a weary “Merci.”

When he’s confident the stranger can no longer hear him, he buries his face in his hands and lets out a long, low groan somewhat akin to that of a dying whale.

_Go somewhere totally different_ , Armin had said. _Broaden your horizons a bit_ , Armin had said. If he ever makes it back home in one piece, he’s going to rip up his passport, burn every little piece to ash and become the very spirit of American ignorance.

He’s about to try his luck at the next street over, when he hears someone clear their throat rather pointedly behind him. He turns around, a “pardonnez-moi” resting at the tip of his tongue, but the man abruptly cuts him off.

"You look like you’re about to keel over any minute, so I won’t bother pointing you somewhere fancy. You want Le Montclair Hostel. Two blocks to the left at the end of this street, turn right at Rue Ramey. It’s halfway down the road. You can’t miss it."

_Modern-day Napoleon, but like a hundred times sexier_ is the first thing that pops into Eren’s head.

The man crosses his arms, one well-polished shoe tapping impatiently at the pavement.

"Ah," Eren blurts out stupidly, "Thank you. You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve been at it out here."

"Don’t mention it," the man replies, already moving to walk away.

"Wait!" Eren yells after him before he can stop himself. "You uh…don’t happen to know any good cafes around, do you? I’m pretty hungry. I’ll make it worth your while, of course. Lunch on me?"

The man stops, shooting him a look that Eren is sure could cut through steel. For a while he just watches Eren fidget in place, hopping awkwardly from foot to foot. Several seconds pass in agonising silence, and then finally - finally, he walks away. Again.

"Don’t fall behind," he says to Eren over his shoulder.


	6. The Chase

Levi sees him there in the writhing mass and he feels the pulse of the bass and the want in his veins.  
  
He flicks the dial on the turntable a few notches and the boy rocks and sways along to the upswell of sound and smoke. He’s dark with sweat and heaving all over, and it’s _Levi’s_ doing and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever seen.  
  
Strobe lights crackle in the dark and he sees there are hands on the boy’s body, up and down running the filthy grind of his hips, his thighs, the curve of his ass, too many.  
  
He catches Auruo's eye up on the lounge and points down to the table, a quick _tap tap_ of his fingers, and doesn’t wait for him to understand before he jumps off the stage.  
  
The drumming deepens to a rhythmic snarl in his gut. He pushes through the press of bodies and they give, hot and slick between his fingers, their lust turning to water on his tongue. The deeper he thrusts the harder they cling, fingers scratching, ankles catching, like they want to strip his skin away. There’s wet heat in his lungs and he pants and pants but he can’t seem to stop it from seeping into him.  
  
He lifts his head for air but what's there is a jolt of something up ahead, eyes, lips, smiling through the haze at him, teasing - no, _testing_.  
  
 _Faster_ , it says, _harder, hurry up and get me, come on_. And then it’s gone.  
  
 _Catch me if you can_.  
  
Levi’s blood simmers and burns, scalding him from the inside out, every nerve and every pore alight and alive. He feels dangerous.  
  
He breathes in. The air is laced with something heady and sweet that goes straight through the core of him, and he moves.  
  
It begins.


	7. Solace

"Not a bad view, huh?" Eren asks him over his shoulder. His arms are sliding around Levi’s waist and his skin is even warmer than usual from the sunburn. His voice is rough from yelling all day over the drone of their boat and when Levi tilts his head up into the open air and says "yeah, not bad at all", he’s surprised how scratchy he sounds himself.

Eren tilts his head up as well and Levi can feel the quirk of his lips against the back of his head. 

"Bet you Armin could name every single constellation up there right now. I’d wake him up but you wouldn’t believe how cranky he gets at that," he says, giggling a little. 

"It’s alright, let them sleep. Anyway, it’s only our first day," Levi replies. Eren leans in and he pulls him forward, slides their fingers together under the flimsy cotton of his shirt. Down below there’s a million different lights on the water and it’s perfectly still but the murmur never dies down, all around him with the wind and the trees and Eren’s steady breath in his ear, his heartbeat at his back. 

"We made it, Levi. Can you believe it? We actually made it, holy fuck," Eren says. Even now he sounds as amazed as the first time they met, almost six months ago to the day.  

"Two millenniums later, but better late than never right?" Levi replies, smiling up at him. The green of Eren’s eyes is right at home here, where the sun and the sand warms his skin and he’s free as far as the horizon in front of him, stretching out every direction forever and ever as far as they can see. 

Eren leans down and kisses his shoulder, softly and shyly like he used to do back then, behind closed doors, lifetimes ago in a world much colder than this.

"I love you, Captain," he simply says.

Levi’s fingers tighten around Eren’s, still holding him close like they’re anchoring him in place, and it’s just as well because Levi has been on the move for so long, as long as he can remember, and this, finally, feels like a safe place to rest. 

"I love you too. Gods, Eren, it’s been so long." 

"I know Levi, it’s okay, it’s okay, see? I’ve got you." 

Levi shuts his eyes and breathes in, nice and slow, and feels the whole world slow down around him.

He could get used to this. 


	8. Home

Levi is in the kitchen adding a second spoonful of sugar into Eren’s coffee mug when he realises. 

Eren takes his coffee with milk and two sugars because he wants the caffeine hit but can’t stand the bitterness. 

He knows Eren will eat most anything, given he gets to try it enough times to get used to it, but is rather partial to beef goulash because it’s what his mother used to cook for him whenever he was sick (seldom) or in trouble (not so seldom). 

Eren is hot all over, except apparently for his toes, which is why the first thing he does when Levi settles on the couch or in bed is hook onto his legs and rub their feet together. 

He talks a lot when he gets bored with a movie, but tries his best to pay attention when it’s Levi’s turn to choose. He sleeps like a rock most nights and snores when he’s tired. He wears shirts with quirky slogans unironically - the cheesier the better. He has a terrible habit of leaving his dirty clothes in the bath tub after he showers, no matter how many times Levi scolds him for it. He gets serious about exam period, and has been known to stay hunched over his desk for hours on end, furrowing his brow at the text book in front of him until Levi knocks and brings him snacks. 

He cries when he’s frustrated, has a wonderful singing voice he’s insecure about, and has become quite the expert at baking carrot cake after he found out it was Levi’s favourite. 

He knows Eren knows a lot about him too - sees it when Eren takes care to use coasters when he drinks away from the kitchen, or drags him out for a run when he’s gone quiet and surly, or holds him close on sleepless nights when he can’t seem to keep still. 

He doesn’t know exactly when or how it happened, but here he is all the same, standing in his kitchen on a Sunday morning making two mugs of coffee while Eren goes on an emergency grocery run for more eggs.

But he knows enough, which is why when Eren comes through the front door with a shopping bag in one arm and a kitten in the other, Levi just sighs and says “fine, but you’re toilet training it or it stays outside.” 

Eren beams, raises the cat up to his face with his one free arm, and coos, “Hear that, Pickle? Daddy says you can stay! You’re part of the family now!” 

They sit down to eat in front of the TV. Eren is laughing at the overly enthusiastic infomercial host through a mouthful of toast. He’s trying to rub his toes against Levi’s under the flap of his fuzzy slippers. The kitten is rubbing up against his other leg, every now and then walking over to where Eren has filled some bowls with tuna and water. 

Levi takes a sip of his coffee, and when he puts down his mug Eren is looking at him. He has toast crumbs all over his mouth, but he’s not smiling and Levi feels like it’s not the time to bring it up. 

"Levi…" he starts, licking his lips, one of a handful of nervous tells. 

"I know," Levi replies. 

"I know Eren, me too," he says again, and Eren is all warmth and breathless laughter, and it may have taken him a while to realise all this, but at least he’d known he was a goner right from the start.


	9. The Ship Sails Itself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this artwork by SNK animator/possible shipper on deck, Takahashi-sensei: https://twitter.com/ss_tkhs/status/409623403285336064
> 
> Please don’t ask. I have no idea.

Levi withstood Eren’s mopey face for a grand total of fifteen and a half minutes before the intensity of his puppy dog eyes became too much to bear, even as they were fixed forlornly on the television screen in front of him.

He took a deep breath, put his magazine down on the table, and spoke.

"Eren."

"Hmm?" The boy replied half-heartedly, chin lifting slightly from where it was planted on the table’s edge.

"Were you ever going to tell me what’s been rattling around in that hollow head of yours, or were you just planning on treating this whole evening like we’ve sat down at a wake?"

Eren tilted his eyes up to Levi’s face, saw that it was even more stern than usual, and sighed.

"I’m sorry, Captain. It’s just…" another sigh, longer and more defeated than the last.

"Eren I swear to god, if the octopus balls get cold on us because you can’t bloody well spit it out-"

"Itsjustwellneverbecanonsir. That’s. That’s all."

"…We what now?" Levi said, trying to grapple with Eren’s slippery words but unable to make heads or tails of them.

"It’s just. We’ll never be canon, sir. Ereri, I mean. Like, fine, we’re both pretty well-liked, of course, and this animator seems to ship us, at least, if the kotatsu and octopus balls are anything to go by. And then there’s the ‘ _Eren and Levi share a close bond of affection_ ' thing, but—”

"But we’ll be stuck having a tentative if slightly homoromantic mentor-mentee relationship in canon til one or both of us are inevitably killed off at the climax of the series?" Levi finished for him.

"Well yeah, that’s the way I see it," Eren replied, dejectedly skewering another octopus ball and popping it in his mouth. 

"Eren. You _do_ know we’re in a shounen-borderline-seinen manga, right?” Levi asked.

"Ye-"

"You _do_ know that every canon ship so far has either been put on opposite ends of the story or turned into titan chow, right?”

"Yes, but-"

"You _do_ know our fans don’t give a shit about whether or not we’re canon, because they understood that when I chose to place you in my care, that it was always gonna be ride or die between us, right?”

"I know that sir, but…I never quite knew how you felt about the whole thing either, to be perfectly honest."

Levi looked at the young man beside him, head hung low, eyes hovering nervously from the TV to the food to somewhere around the bridge of his nose, just below eye level.

"Eren Jaeger, in the handful of months since you’ve joined the Corps I have saved your disaster-prone ass on at least three separate occasions, used my own back to shield you from my most trusted comrades right after you shifted with no warning whatsoever, made a shit joke about my best friend _who also happens to be the head honcho of our entire military branch_ to get you to crack a smile.

"If you can’t get it into that colossally vapid head of yours that this is about as much fondness as they can pack into my character arc at this point in our relationship, then they mustn’t have checked your head properly after 3DMG training, because the _fucking animator_ saw enough from us to have us sit side by side in a kotatsu and share dinner like we’re the next fucking _Junjou Romantica_ power couple. Now unstick your face off the table and eat your damn octopus balls.”

Levi snatched his magazine off the table, only to put it back down a short while later when he realised Eren hadn’t moved an inch since the end of his speech.

Eren was looking at him properly now, the shine back in his eyes, smiling that tender little smile that had featured in many a swooning fangirl’s gifset.

"I’m sorry, it’s just. _Wow_. I really wasn’t expecting any of that. I feel a little silly now, but…it was very reassuring. To hear it straight from you. Thank you, Captain.”

Levi smiled back, because contrary to popular belief, he _was_ capable of it. Isayama was just waiting for a way to use it to inflict as much pain on the fans as possible in canon, was all.

"Don’t mention it, silly brat. Beats me why this stuff even worries you. Can’t spell subtext without buttsex, and all that."

Eren choked, spraying bits of octopus ball all over the table, nearly flipping the kotatsu upside down.


	10. Five things you know and one thing you don't

**First**. He looks at you and your skin warms. Your pulse stutters, your nerves tingle and your muscles seize the way they do when you bite into your hand and lose yourself. You were never one to shrink away from the questions in people’s eyes. But when he looks at you, there’s nothing you want more than to be worthy of his attention. You duck your head, because you don’t think you can yet answer whatever it is he’s asking you. You work harder.

 **Second**. You study him with a dedication that would make Armin proud. You think back to the stories you heard about him in Shiganshina – what you know to be true, what you suspect to be false, and all the ones you made up yourself from parts and pieces of both. Pretty quickly, you learn that he shares little in common with the exalted hero of your youth. Up close he is coarser, worn about the edges, more man than marble but no less infallible. In some ways he will always be your hero. In others, he is something else altogether. 

 **Third**. You learn to become fluent in his manner of speaking. You find he’s actually rather expressive, always earnest in his own way, in his own words. You are able to decipher the varying severity of his curses. You discover that his sentences run longer the more deeply he feels, like they’re being dredged up from a wellspring bubbling under his skin. Even his silences are rife with meaning – he has always been efficient. One time he makes a joke and you are the first and only person who laughs. The two of you make a good team, the Commander says. 

 **Fourth**. He has delicate hands. They are smaller and thinner than yours, but rough with calluses and dappled with scars. His touch says everything his words leave out. When he raises his cup to his lips, they are careful. When they’re closed around yours as he guides you into his special reverse-grip, they are steady. When they lift you by your shirtsleeves out of your titan as you come to, they are warm and firm and they don’t let go til your vision has cleared and you’re back on your feet. His fingertips are gentle when they brush against yours as you take his handkerchief to your bloodied nose. When you seek them out again, days later when you offer him his handkerchief freshly washed, they tremble a little where they rest on your shoulder as he tells you quietly to keep it. 

 **Fifth**. To you, he is greater than the sum of his parts. You’ve watched him and listened to him, followed his orders and dangled a half-step away from death at his side. To you he is Captain, comrade and co-conspirator. You know him. You understand him. But for all your fact-gathering, you still can’t find the words to describe what exactly this means for you. Why all the little things that make up this man have you aching in a way you never have before – and you’ve ached plenty. You wish you knew. You wish so badly that you knew.

 

(Last. He wishes he knew, too.)


End file.
